06-21-2017, 08:58 PM
Bumph. We're home again.
I sleep outside a train-line.
My room hangs over railways
and I’m lullab-ied by
departures and delays.
I mutter alterations through the dark.
Crash. They’re back at work again.
I eat beside a building site.
My kitchen rests against the diggers
as I season with cement,
sprinkle asphalt in my tea;
the next best thing to sweetener.
Honk. We’re driving off again.
I piss inside a lay-by,
take baths in blood-sucked bubble-wrap
and tousle my hair for drivers’ rear-view mirrors.
Never quite
make it to the motorway.
I won’t stand to be forgotten.
I won’t stand for my bed
to be built upon.
I won’t stand.
I won’t stand, at all.
I sleep outside a train-line.
My room hangs over railways
and I’m lullab-ied by
departures and delays.
I mutter alterations through the dark.
Crash. They’re back at work again.
I eat beside a building site.
My kitchen rests against the diggers
as I season with cement,
sprinkle asphalt in my tea;
the next best thing to sweetener.
Honk. We’re driving off again.
I piss inside a lay-by,
take baths in blood-sucked bubble-wrap
and tousle my hair for drivers’ rear-view mirrors.
Never quite
make it to the motorway.
I won’t stand to be forgotten.
I won’t stand for my bed
to be built upon.
I won’t stand.
I won’t stand, at all.